


Apologies

by belial



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belial/pseuds/belial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim makes a rather inappropriate public apology.  Sebastian can’t stay mad at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This, like all of my other fics, is completely FALSE. Sherlock is property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the TV series is property of the BBC.  
> Spoilers/Warnings: None for the show.

Sebastian’s favorite pub reeks of sweat and grime and sex; away from mainstream London, it’s the perfect place to escape to when he needs a pint of ale, a smoke, and time away from the manic whirlwind that is his lover. Especially when he wants to punch said lover in his ridiculously adorable grinning face.

The noise in the pub never stops, and the silence is his first clue to pay attention. The second clue is the low murmur of voices and Sebastian can’t help it; he glances over his shoulder to see the newcomer, curious to see what walked in to justify such a reaction.

And forgets to breathe.

The jeans fit too snugly to be comfortable, and while he’s not tall, his ass is a spectacular thing of beauty, lush and on display in the dark denim. The tight black tee shirt draws attention to the wearer’s skin, the _lovely delicate waiting to be bruised_ fair skin, pale and stretched over blue veins and lithe muscles. And the final touches? A thin leather band encircling the neck, tight but not too tight, ready for a man to hook his hands into… and eyeliner to accentuate his dark brown eyes.

“Fuck,” Sebastian mumbles, drinking the sight in. The patrons surround the newcomer, but he ducks around all potential takers. It’s a few steps to where Sebastian sits; the slender man moves toward his and Sebastian has no choice but to watch his progress.

When he comes to a stop in front of Sebastian, he smiles softly, drops to his knees, and rests his head against Sebastian’s shin. “Hello, Sir,” he says, into the leg of Sebastian’s trousers.

“Jesus Christ, Jim, what’re you playin’ at?” Sebastian hisses under his breath. “You’ve got every bloke in the room staring…!”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Jim… Jim fucking _pleads_ , taking Sebastian’s words away. The smaller man rubs himself shamelessly against Sebastian’s leg, nuzzles Sebastian’s thigh with his nose. “Forgive me for being so late to arrive?”

A game, but not a game; Jim glances up, locks gazes with Sebastian. And the consulting criminal wraps his arms around Sebastian’s legs, clinging to him. “It took me awhile to find you, you were so furious I thought you’d end up somewhere else. I misjudged you. Twice. And I’m sorry, ‘Bas…Sir. I’m sorry, Sir,” Jim finished, correcting himself. “For everything.”

 _What is it,_ Sebastian muses, _That allows him to bend himself this way, for me?_ Sebastian’s fantasized about this many times, his lover on his knees and taking orders. But never in a pub house, with so many witnesses. Sure, no one would recognize them here, but still…

“Sir?”

Sebastian blinks. “What?”

“You… you haven’t told me if I’m forgiven,” Jim says. He gives Sebastian the saddest eyes Sebastian’s ever seen. “Please, Sir?”

And fuck. Okay. If Jim wants to play this game – this game Sebastian’s wanted for so, so long – then who is he to spit in the face of such opportunity? “I don’t know,” he replies, and watches the way Jim’s eyes sparkle with acknowledgement. “You royally fucked up this evening.”

A pint sloshes next to him, and he looks up. The bartender gives him a look that says, _Are you seriously stupid, take him home and fuck him._ But what the man says is, “’n I get somethin’ fer yer boy?”

Sebastian hooks his fingers under Jim’s collar, pulls him to his feet by the strap. “He’ll have a pint of Harp and a plate of chips n’ gravy.”

Jim wrinkles his nose but slides onto the stool next to Sebastian when Sebastian tugs at him. He doesn’t speak until Sebastian asks, “Why this?”

“Because I know you’ve wanted it.”

“I didn’t ask for it in public,” Sebastian clarifies. “Why in public?”

Jim pouts, and doesn’t respond. Sebastian slaps him across the face, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to startle him. “Silence doesn’t count as a response,” he grunts, and watches as Jim straightens his spine. “I asked you a question, pet.”

“I wanted to prove to you that you matter,” Jim admits, quietly. When Sebastian cannot hide his noise of shock, the smaller man smiles wryly. “You were right, ‘Bastian, about what I did. That I went after the Holmes boys without any thoughts to what you may or may not want, and you were so angry with me. I didn’t… you had to know you matter to me, more than they do. So I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.”

Sebastian’s offer is cut off by the arrival of the food he ordered for Jim. “Eat,” the assassin says. “You don’t eat enough, you know.”

“I know,” Jim replies. He reaches for the plate of hot chips and suddenly Sebastian smacks his hand down. Jim blinks at him, but stills in the chair. “Hard for me to eat, if I can’t touch the food?”

Sebastian frowns, picks up one of the chips and breaks it into small pieces. He dips it into the gravy, burning his fingers a little, and holds it up for Jim. “Here,” he grunts, and watches in awe as Jim leans forward to take the morsel from him. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Jim nods, accepts the bite of food and laps his tongue against Sebastian’s fingers. Sebastian can’t hide his groan, shifts on his stool to alleviate the pressure against his prick. “Christ,” he murmurs.

He continues to feed Jim, and Jim (for once) eats without complaint about how food’s useless or boring or dull or unnecessary. By the time the plate’s mostly empty, Jim’s more or less in his lap, and Sebastian’s cradling the smaller man against his chest. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you eat that much.”

“If your idea of sexual sadism includes stuffing me full of food, who am I to argue?”

Sebastian snorts, bites Jim’s ear hard enough to make him yelp. “I have to take advantage where I can.”

Jim twists his body so that he’s straddling Sebastian’s thighs. Sebastian wraps his arms around Jim so he doesn’t slide to the floor. “So am I forgiven?”

“I suppose it’s too much to ask you not to pull that shite again.”

Jim presses his face into Sebastian’s throat, purrs at the contact. “Probably. I can… try?”

“From you, that’s as good as a signed statement, I s’pose,” Sebastian says. He smiles at Jim. “Ready to go home for the make-up sex?”

“You could just order me to blow you here…”

Sebastian steals a kiss, jostles the other man so that Jim’s forced to hang on to him. “Don’t tempt me.”

Sebastian half drags, half chases Jim out the door, hails a taxi and pushes Jim into it. He barks an address at the driver and pulls Jim into his lap again, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s body. “Put your head on my shoulder and be quiet,” he says, and Jim curls into him, snuffling in contentment.

Sebastian refuses to acknowledge the warmth in his chest as affection.

It takes the cab less than ten minutes to get them to Sebastian’s flat; Sebastian tosses a few extra pounds to the driver, and they exit the cab with haste. Once in the night air, Sebastian dips down, tosses Jim over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “’Bastian!” 

“Hush,” he replies. “It’s my night to choose, yeah?”

Jim falls silent, doesn’t complain as Sebastian carries him through the door and up the stairs to his bed. Once in the darkened room, he sets Jim down on the top of the blanket and steps back to look at him. “You’re so lovely,” he says.

Jim grins at him, playful. “That all you got for me, ‘Bastian? Lovely?”

Sebastian smacks the other man’s arm and says, “Hush. And strip.”

It takes a bit of wiggling, but Jim peels off the jeans, shrugs out of the shirt. “Don’t take off the collar,” Sebastian says, when Jim’s fingers lift to touch it. “Leave it. I really like it.”

“M’kay.”

Sebastian doesn’t bother undressing; he crawls on top of his lover and pulls Jim into his side. “Tell me how you really think of me, Jim,” he says, closing his eyes and pressing his mouth to Jim’s face. “The truth.”

Jim squirms, but Sebastian doesn’t let go; Jim’s erection wilts as he whines, “Why do you want to ruin my wonderful plan by talking about _feelings_?”

“Because you said tonight you were mine,” Sebastian replies. “Mine, to do whatever I want with. And I figure, this might be the only chance I ever get to hear the truth fall out of your mouth, so.”

Jim props himself up on one arm so he can glare at Sebastian properly. “ Sneaky.”

Sebastian doesn’t answer; he waits the smaller man out. Finally, Jim huffs, “What do you want me to say? _Oh yes, Sebastian, I love you, you are the wind beneath my wings_? That’s not me.”

“You told me that you owed me an apology because you misjudged me,” Sebastian counters. “And you’ve probably never said anything like that to anyone before in your life. Right?”

Jim tucks his face into Sebastian’s armpit. “Maybe,” he mumbles.

“And you came to the pub looking like a whore, to seduce me into forgiving you, yeah?”

“Mmph.”

Sebastian cups Jim’s face and tips it up. “So I’d take that to mean you love me much more than words.”

Jim bites his lower lip and nods. Sebastian kisses him, licking into the smaller man’s mouth with gentle strokes of his tongue. “Well, don’t say it, then. Because I feel the same. I wouldn’a been so pissed if it didn’t make me worry about you, and I wouldn’t worry if I didn’t feel like that. All right?”

Jim nods, sighs into Sebastian’s mouth. Eventually, he starts pulling at Sebastian’s clothes until Sebastian’s as naked as Jim is. Sebastian smiles softly to himself when Jim crawls on top of him, uses him as a full-body pillow. “You’re smarter than I give you credit for,” Jim says.

“Yeah?”

“Tricked me into not saying what I probably should say at some point.”

“Say it when you really want,” Sebastian shrugs. “I don’t need to hear it to know it. I can read your thoughts sometimes, and hear what you don’t say, remember?”

Jim kisses him, and it’s enough. It’s _thank you_ and _I love you_ all wrapped up in a tiny tempermental package.

Sebastian wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
